


Wake Up Call

by twinsarein



Category: Smallville/DCU
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-05
Updated: 2011-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinsarein/pseuds/twinsarein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce watches Clark on his monitors, afraid something is wrong with his friend. Something is, but exactly what the problem is comes as a complete surprise to Bruce. Luckily, Bruce is adaptable.  Sequel to Needy, also on the archive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up Call

With a considering look on his face, Batman watches Superman fly off. Once Superman is out of sight, something that doesn’t take long as the caped hero is flying even faster than usual, Batman climbs into the Batmobile and quickly shifts through the gears until he’s practically flying over the roads himself.

Looking at the time on the dashboard, Bruce bites back a sigh. It’s still early, but with his suit in its current condition, Bruce figures he should go back to the Batcave and change. It would be hard to intimidate criminals while his nipples were flashing them.

Damn Poison Ivy and her plants, anyway. Reaching up, Bruce feels along the skin exposed by what those plants had done. He’s never heard of a substance that could eat through kevlar, and yet leave a person’s skin alone.

There is residue left behind, but other than feeling uncomfortable where it has slid further down into his uniform, Bruce can’t feel any effects from it at all - no burning or tingling, not even a tickle.

Downshifting, Bruce comes to a screeching halt in the Batcave, and quickly gets out of the car. He’d been planning to change and go out again, but he might call it a night instead.

Except for Ivy, it had been a quiet night, and he wants get a sample of the substance still on his chest for analysis, take a quick shower to wash the rest off - in case it has delayed effects, something he wouldn’t put past Ivy at all - and he wants to check in on Clark. He’d been acting very strangely before he’d flown off, earlier.

A voice from the intercom has Bruce redirecting his steps. “Is everything alright, Master Bruce?”

Pressing the button to speak, Bruce reassures Alfred. “Everything is fine. Poison Ivy had some plants that put some interesting holes in my uniform, but didn’t hurt the skin. I’m going to shower the residue off, and then analyze a sample.”

“I’m gratified to hear you aren’t hurt, sir. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Thank you, Alfred, but no. You have an early night for once. What I have to do shouldn’t take too long, and then I think I’ll go to bed, as well.”

“Very good, sir. Good luck with your analysis, and sleep well.”

Cutting the connection with a tiny smile, Bruce starts removing his uniform, and getting the sample he needs before heading to the shower. Grabbing the soap, Bruce doesn’t waste any time in washing himself clean.

Getting clean is automatic, and his mind switches to the tests he’ll conduct on the plant residue, as well as Clark’s odd behavior after he’d deposited Bruce on the ground near the Batmobile.

If Bruce didn’t know better, he’d swear the Clark had been acting skittish. Whenever Bruce had tried to move closer, Clark had backed away. It had been tempting to see if Clark would have let himself be chased around the vehicle, but Bruce hadn’t let it go that far.

Just as he won’t allow things to progress too far when his dick twitches at the thoughts of Clark. Clark is a colleague and a friend, Bruce, hasn’t ever let things go further than that, not even in his fantasies.

Getting out, Bruce briskly dries off, resolutely ignoring his half-hard cock. Throwing on a short robe, Bruce belts it closed as he walks barefoot over to the monitors. He figures he can rewind the tapes he has of Clark’s apartment, and listen as he works on the analysis.

He’d installed two cameras a few days ago, and he wonders how long it’ll be before Clark discovers they are there. He hasn’t been in his apartment much, if at all, since Bruce installed them. It hadn’t taken him long to find the original bugs Bruce had planted, but strangely, he’d never said anything about them, or removed them.

Bringing up the footage of Clark’s apartment, Bruce rewinds it to about the time Superman had flown off after rescuing Bruce. At the rate Clark can fly, it would take less than a minute to get from Gotham to Metropolis, and Bruce wants to make sure not to miss something important.

Pressing play, Bruce turns away to get the sample. He won’t watch unless he has, too. For now, he’ll just listen. That thought lasts until he hears a crash coming from over the monitor, and then before he can finish turning around, he hears Clark’s voice, sounding tortured and deep, moaning out Bruce’s name.

Taking two steps, Bruce slams a hand down on the pause button. “What the hell was that?”

Glancing at the monitor, Bruce’s eyes widen at the sight of Clark sprawled out on his cheap couch, one big hand down his uniform pants. At the moment he’s frozen the image, it looks as though Clark had been...he’d been making himself... Bruce shakes his head in disbelief.

Figuring he’s just seeing things that aren’t there, Bruce rewinds the tape a little, and this time stays to watch. Even as focused as he is, he almost misses it. Clark all but flies into his apartment, throws himself down on the couch, and a second later, before Bruce can make out exactly what he’s doing, Clark is calling out Bruce’s name again.

Taking several deep breaths in through his nose, and releasing them out of his mouth, Bruce reaches out again and rewinds the tape. When he plays it back this time, he slows it enough to watch frame by frame.

Even at that speed, there isn’t much time to see what going on, but it’s enough. He sees Clark push a hand under the fabric of his uniform pants, he sees that big hand settle over the area where his cock is and move up and down, and he hears the slowed down version of his name.

His own dick hardening under his robe, Bruce absently presses pause and stares at the screen. There isn’t much to see. Clark still has himself in hand, and obviously there isn’t going to be a wetspot - it’s either under or on his hand. Such thoughts make Bruce’s dick swell even more.

So, Clark had jerked off and called out Bruce’s name. Bruce finds his reality shrinking to that one, seemingly all-important, set of facts. Fighting it, Bruce gives himself a mental shake, and turns away, trying to refocus on the sample.

He can’t let himself think about it. If he does, he’ll start thinking of impossibilities becoming possible. Clark calling out his name is probably only a one time thing. It doesn’t mean anything; he won’t let it mean anything.

As he turns, he hits the play button. Clark’s already come, so he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. Maybe Clark releasing a little tension had been all that had been wrong earlier, but Bruce doesn’t want to take that for granted. He’s almost to the sample when he hears his name being moaned again.

Jerking back around, Bruce sees Clark in practically the same spot, but this time his uniform pants are pushed down below his balls, his legs are spread wider, and Clark’s fisting his cock more slowly. Bruce’s breath whooshes silently out of him at the sight.

Licking his lips, Bruce walks back to the monitor and hits rewind. He watches the first, explosive, orgasm again, and then keeps the tape going. He sees that Clark’s cock never softened, and he’d never let go of it completely.

Bruce’s own cock is hard enough that it has pushed through the closed robe. Bruce rubs a hand on his thigh, near his erection, but not on it. His cock twitches as he sees Clark start thrusting his hips up into his grip, and Bruce clenches his hand on his thigh so he won’t touch himself.

When Clark pushes his free hand under his uniform shirt and heads for a nipple, though, Bruce moans, hands twitching at his sides. When Clark speeds up the hand on his cock, and adds a little twisting motion at the end, Bruce can feel a bead of precome pearling at the tip of his cock, escaping his control.

Clark’s second orgasm feels like a punch to the gut, as it leaves Bruce gasping, reaching out to the monitor, wanting to taste, to touch. Growling, Bruce yanks his hand back, and looks down at his throbbing erection, trying to will it to go down.

Rotating his shoulders, trying to loosen them, Bruce looks up in time to see Clark pushing off from the couch, and float into his bedroom, stripping clothes off as he goes. Cock still hard, a stain of come glistening on his stomach. Bruce really wants to lick it off.

Without conscious thought, Bruce switches to the bedroom monitor and cues up the correct timeframe. He overshoots a little, because Clark is already on the bed, legs drawn up and spread wide, one finger inching its way inside of him. Bruce feels as though he’s been punched again. He’s never seen Clark look so debauched. It’s a good look for him. Bruce wants to see more of it.

As that finger pushes deeper, Bruce has a hard time catching his breath, and he can’t tear his eyes from the monitor. He fights the urge as long as he can, but when Clark pushes a third finger in and he’s moaning like a porn star, Bruce can’t resist any longer.

Shrugging the loosely belted robe off to puddle on the floor, Bruce braces himself on the bank of computers the monitor is a part of. Still watching Clark, he takes his hard cock in his hand and doesn’t bother to stifle his own moan at the instant relief it is.

It isn’t actually going to take much, as his control is already shot enough for him to give in. He sets a pace akin to Clark’s, rubbing a thumb over his wet slit. His hand slides easily over himself due to the precome that has fought its way free and slid down his hard length.

Ass clenching as he allows himself to imagine pushing into Clark’s heat for the first time, Bruce can feel his orgasm building to a roiling boil. When Clark’s moan’s change to words, however, “Yeah, Bruce! Hold me down. Do it. Fuck into me. Do it hard. Please, Bruce. God, yes! Yes!” Bruce knows it’s all over.

Clark’s third orgasm in less than thirty minutes bursts from him, decorating many spots on his body, and Bruce lets go of the tiny thread of control he still had. Arching back, Bruce lets his orgasm do the same thing, and feels his come messing him up, negating his shower. Somehow, Bruce doesn’t care.

Panting and feeling a little weak-kneed from the force of his his orgasm, Bruce watches as Clark cleans himself off, and then starts to drift off. Come cooling on his body, Bruce stares at the sleeping man for several minutes, letting his body recover as his brain starts weighing pros and cons.

After a while, Bruce pushes back from the bank of computers, determination in his posture. He still isn’t sure it’s worth the risk, but he and Clark obviously can’t continue on this way.

Turning away from the monitor, Bruce goes to take care of the sample, and then heads for another quick shower. He wants to get as quick a start as he can. The night isn’t getting any younger, and he still has a thirty minute helicopter ride ahead of him. And a superhero to wake up.


End file.
